


Bar Haunt

by DROLLmaeosaur



Category: Magic: The Gathering
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe, M/M, Oversimplification of Complicated Real World Things, Science
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-29
Updated: 2019-04-29
Packaged: 2020-02-09 22:16:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18647170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DROLLmaeosaur/pseuds/DROLLmaeosaur
Summary: He should go home, back to his empty, lonely apartment, find something to eat and get some sleep... He breathed out on a long, tired exhale and went to go find a bar.





	Bar Haunt

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this last night for a friend because we spent the weekend talking about it and I wanted to put a smile on her face. Largely unbeta'd, consider yourself warned.

Ral Zarek blinked. Then he blinked again and several times more and forced his eyes to focus.

The coffee pot had run dry after sputtering out the last dregs of its contents into his mug immediately once he’d tipped it down to pour. Fan-fucking-tasting. Now all of his coffee was going to taste burnt and he was going to have to crunch through it. He looked over to the pile of papers and the stacks of carefully laid out posters. He could manage the rest. He didn’t really have much of a choice. 

He refilled the carafe with water, ground fresh beans, started a new pot and pulled the next paperclipped stack of papers into his lap.

\---

When Ral finally left his office it was late. Later than he had expected to after his dismal expectations for the day. Which was seriously saying something. Today had been a new classification of worst, a concentrated distillation of misfortune. It was a new log of worse that he hadn’t realized the data points of his life needed to be properly graphed on their consistent, downward curve.

He stalked his way out of the labyrinth of hallways and connected wings. He didn’t know how late it was, he hadn’t bothered to look at the clock when he’d locked down the lab and slammed the door and of course the lab was the bleak, windowless science dungeon that was academic standard. His normal, long-legged swagger was weighed down with physical and mental exhaustion in equal measure and good a helping of general exasperation at himself, his students, his faculty and the entire academic institution.

At least four of the proposals had no chance. Probably get rejected before their authors even got in front of the panel for their presentation. He’d done all he could to improve them or flat out dissuade those students from submitting at all, but there were a few everytime who were too stubborn to know their datasets were too small, their designs too vague or their hypothesis flimsy and unfounded. Some people only learned from failure.

Worse were the ones with great ideas and novel designs that could full well get rejected anyway, simply because their authors lacked the nerve or the skill in public speaking to communicate and persuade their would-be patrons. True scientists without an ounce of charisma.

Maree should get her grant without issue. Her preliminary data was sound and if she could really manage the cooling system for the conductor she was proposing there’d be a lot of money to be made for whoever was backing her. It wouldn’t be as much as she asked for and she’d no doubt be unhappy with a few of the strings that came along with the check, but she’d make due. Her brains were only matched by her ambitions. She was probably going to become a problem soon. A few more years and she’d have the resume for his position, not just eyes for it.

Maybe he didn’t even care anymore. His own ambitions seemed to have run dry. Hell, industry was starting to look better and better. Some reasonable hours, way better health insurance and no grad students fighting like five year olds when someone’s good pipetter goes missing. Or just give up entirely and be patent lawyer. After three PhDs how hard could it be to get a law degree? He’d look great in a suit and he’d have the fuck-you money to get a good one properly tailored so he’d look tall and distinguished and broad-shouldered and not just lanky and slightly under-fed.

He’d look way better than Jace god damn Beleren ever had. He could make sure of that.

But he’d never do it. And everyone knew it. He was an academic through and through and he hated himself for it.

Finally reaching the ground floor and doors he exited the science hellscape. It was dark, of course, but the night air was the perfect temperature of late spring. It was beautiful night. Ral cursed.

It couldn't even have the good fucking sense to rain on him. Fuck.

He should go home, back to his empty, lonely apartment, find something to eat and get some sleep. He didn’t even know if he had anything resembling food. There was a take-away container in the back of the fridge somewhere from earlier in the week, but it was just as likely a science experiment now than anything.

Ral palmed the lighter out of his pocket and sparked a cigarette to light, sucking in an eager pull of pollutants into his lungs and holding the smoke in until burned. He breathed out on a long, tired exhale and went to go find a bar.

\---

It was a substantial walk, walking home would suck but he needed to put some distance between himself and the science buildings if he didn’t want to be found and asked for last-minute editing advice. He wouldn’t put it past Melek to have had an ‘epiphany’ in the last few hours and be running between Ral’s known haunts even though Ral had threatened to electrocute him if he ever tried it again. Maybe he’d actually do it this time. He could probably sleep in jail and he already had one tattoo. And he’d certainly break his current dry spell…

God Damnit had it really been that long that he was fondly imagining going to prison and getting laid?

He blew out another stream of smoke.

_Get it together Zarek._

It took him the length of three cigarettes to walk to the bar, which was just as well because he’d been twitchy all day holed up his lab deprived of vitamin N and there was no way that anyone was going to let him smoke here. It wasn’t that kind of place. It was classy and distinguished and everything about the place had an air of pretension. As if on cue a woman at the bar seat closest to the door gave him a purposefully, obvious once over and let her eyes hang intentionally on his tattoo, visible since he’d rolled up the sleeves of his shirt and jacket, before turning her head in dismissal. That was about average for ‘Afterlife’, the first time he’d chanced wandering in here he’d half expected that they’d politely ask him to leave in a very un-polite way. But they’d served him drinks and certainly taken his money. Quite a bit of his money. Much more money than any of his students could afford. Which was entirely the point. He was willing to pay for silence and privacy and ‘Afterlife’ had that in spades.

It was tucked in the shadow of the ornate, old quarter architecture that largely defined the law school campus and surrounding area. The bar catered to some of the lower level faculty but mostly students, just the kind that had gotten in on their daddy's name or an aunt’s “donation”. Ral wouldn’t be surprised if no one knew who he was. All the better, that.

He took a seat in the middle of a stretch of open stools at the bar, the surface of which was polished black glass that was embellished with clean, gold piping and shined to the point of a mirror finish. He could see himself in it. God damn, the only thing that looked worse than the dark bags under his eyes was the way that just the white bits of his hair seemed determined to stick out awkwardly on one side. Ral couldn’t even bring himself to care and try to flatten them. 

He had to put money on the bar before the bartender even deigned to lower herself to the task of serving him.

“Gin and Tonic, double. Twist of lemon rather than the lime.” She took his money and offered him a curt nod. He mentally waved the bill goodbye, knowing not much of it would be coming back.

Still, she mixed it promptly and he watched how much gin she put in to tonic and he wasn’t about to complain. He took it with a quick of a smile in thanks, not even managing a hint of the smug charm that he’d usually edge it with. Not that he wanted anything to do with someone of the female persuasion, but normally he wouldn’t be above turning the flirt on if it meant getting a free drink or two, even just to try as a harmless experiment. Glancing down at the tired, scruffy reflection in the bar he doubted that he could even manage it in this state.

Alcohol didn’t care that he looked like a half-dead mess. Alcohol loved him just the way he was. He loved it back.

When it was gone he pushed the glass towards the edge of the bar and fished out more cash for the next one while he plucked the lemon rind. He leaned his head into his hand and chewed on the ribbon of rind and pith, happy to have something to do with his fingers in the absence of a cigarette and there was something gloriously self-punishing about the bitterness. 

It was a bit busier now, the bartender looked like she had a few other orders in the works so he swung around and let his eyes wander. Predictably, mostly expensive polo shirts and much more expensive watches. He didn’t quite know what the semester’s end meant for the students here, but he saw a certain kind of harried exhaustion in a few of them that he could empathize with if he wanted to. He didn’t of course - the spoiled, full-ride brats.

Behind him the bartender asked “Same?”, economical even in speech, and he nodded before going back to his judgemental people watching. Maybe he’d caught it from the girl at the door but it was as good a way to pass the time anyway and it was making him feel, if not better, at least no worse to contemplate his superiority to these trust-fund kids.

The door opened again and a crowd of five walked in chattering about torts of all things. Excitedly. He mentally rearranged “law school” and “prison” in the hierarchy of potential life paths. Trying to figure out how to make toilet hooch would probably be fun, he could never imagine giggling about negligence torts.

Another person followed the group, but walked slowly enough and he paused just inside to survey the bar. Obviously not part of the torts crew. When he turned his head Ral stopped mangling the lemon peel.

Square jaw. Boyish face. Auburn hair. Not short but certainly shorter than him. A bulky white sweater that was obviously worth more than Ral paid in rent, probably warmer than it needed to be considering the mild weather. Visiting student? Could be a transfer but a recent one. Ral had been using ‘Afterlife’ to hide from his students for a while and with those doe-eyes he would have remembered this one if he’d seen him before. He was suddenly, painfully aware of just how long it had been. 

Ral put the lemon peel back into his empty glass, forgotten.

He watched him take a seat several seats down, sadly too far to make any reasonable attempt at conversation. Ral had almost thought he'd gotten caught staring when he thought the man's eyes had swept over but they didn't linger long and moved fluidly away without any reaction. That hurt more than the embarrassment would have. 

Was he really that far gone?

Now the man seemed to be looking past him entirely. At least meant that he could get away with watching for a while longer. And Ral certainly didn’t expect someone that looked like that to come to him in his current state. Maybe ever. If he had half as much money as that sweater and those slacks suggested (because Ral had been looking at his pants only to critique the quality of the fabric, definitely) he surely had some beautiful would-be trophy wife girlfriend or fiance back home. No reason to think twice about a gangly, scruffy and greying professor.

God damn he was in a dark mood.

Sweater-boy spoke with the bartender for longer than the space of a drink order, but the bar had filled enough for the ambient conversation to obscure their voices past the point of effective eavesdropping. The man didn’t, at least, seem to be flirting with the bartender and after a few minutes he handed her a credit card and she left to make his drink. Ral was too distracted to even hope that she was, at some point, going to finally make him a second. 

Through the whole exchange Sweater-boy’s face remained impressively passive, stoic if he was being specific. The evenness of his neutral expression made Ral wonder what he’d have to do to put a smile on to that pretty face.

Probably stop talking to him and leave him the hell alone.

“Sir.”

The bartender from behind him set his drink down with more force than was necessary. Or maybe she had just thunked it onto the bar to get his attention. He’d probably been pretty obvious then. 

He turned back and the look on her face said ‘VERY obvious’. He gave her an embarrassed smile that was more like a grimace this time and took his drink sheepishly.

_Good going Zarek. What a great professor you are. Hiding from your students and ogling new ones. Truly a bastion of your profession._

Ral gave his reflection one more look, if only to force his his eyes to behave. He ran his long fingers through his hair, trying to tame the flyaways. It sort of worked, but of course there was nothing he could do for the rest of his sorry state.

_Just drink your drink and go back to your sad, lonely apartment._ He told himself. _You might be better than the torts fanclub but you’re certainly not in that league._

He grabbed his drink and nearly had the straw to his lips before he realized that there was a lime wedge perched on the rim of the glass rather than the lemon that he’d asked for. It hadn’t been that long since he’d ordered the first drink and she wasn’t that busy, plus she’d taken the damn empty glass with the last twist of lemon in it. If the drinks weren’t so damn expensive he wouldn’t care and fuck it he was feeling petulant.

Ral raised a hand. “Uh… Bartend-”

White in his peripheral vision and a soft, but precise voice.

“I’m sorry. I believe she mixed them up.”

Sweater-boy.

He was holding out his drink, identical save for the twist of lemon.

Ral’s mouth fell open and it took him what should have been an embarrassingly long time to close it. Instead he replied.

“Yeah, it looks like it.”

Sweater-boy set his drink on the counter next to Ral’s and smiled.

Ral didn’t know what the fuck he did but he knew there was a whole lot more he’d do if this man kept smiling at him like that.

“Shall we simply switch? She seems rather busy. I haven’t drank any of mine, so the straw is clean.”

Ral probably would have taken the straw home and kept it as a souvenir if he had.

“Uh.. me neither.” He said with a shake of his head that turned into a nod halfway through. _Keep it up stud, you’re doing great’_

“Then do you mind?” Sweater boy asked, with a slight accent to his words that Ral couldn’t place. Definitely there though. Definitely hot.

“Not at all.”

And against all logical reason the man took the seat next to him. In an action that was almost delicate he switched the glasses, taking hold of them with a thumb and two fingers of each just near the top lip of the glass and rotating them to their proper recipient. It was somehow distinctly erotic.

It had seriously been too long.

“Tomik.” He said, extending a hand. 

Ral took it, happy that his hands weren’t shaking. “Ral Zarek.”

He’d completely forgotten that it was definitely not in his plans to tell anyone his name tonight. Tomik’s hand was very soft. Not like his that were scarred and burnt and calloused from years of lab safety violations. He hoped Tomik didn’t pick up on the way that his fingers purposely stroked over his palm when he released Ral’s hand.

Tomik smiled again and Ral expected that he definitely picked up on it. Ral let out an awkward, but genuine laugh that put a smile on his own face that stayed there as he reached for his drink and ran the straw into his front tooth when he tried to take a drink.

Tomik laughed and Ral realized just how much trouble he was really in. No one will have ever tipped so much on a bar tab for a mistake.

“Nice to meet you Ral.”

They spoke for a long time. 

Tomik was articulate and precise with each thing he said, as though every word he spoke was some line of a meticulously penned contract. His expression relaxed into the placid calmness that Ral had seen him use with the bartender, but he smiled often and laughed softly to himself with a downflick of his eyes at the dumb shit that Ral said and every single time either happened Ral felt as though he’d had 8 hours of sleep and a full meal every day for the past week and could run a mile.

Ral was… if not smooth, at least a functional conversationalist after he finished the second drink and ordered another (which the bartender had no problem getting right this time.) He could feel some of the usual sauve mojo slowly filter back through his veins as his blood alcohol levels rose and Tomik continued to talk to him. It was like soaking in the rays of the sun.

“So you are new around here.” 

“In a manner of speaking, yes.” Tomik nodded.

“Law then.” Ral confirmed. 

“I’m afraid so.” Tomik smiled and his eyelashes brushed down over his cheeks in such a way should not have made Ral’s pants any tighter but certainly did. “It’s a family affliction.”

Ral fought to stay still. Which wasn’t something that he was good at as a rule and certainly wasn’t any better at half-hard. So he sucked down another quarter of his cocktail.

“There wasn’t much of a choice or a question what career path I would be choosing. My parents and my family are omnipresent in that respect.” Tomik elaborated.

Ral huffed in agreement. “Tell me about it. My boss is like that. Old guard and inescapable. His methods are draconian and I’m pretty sure he’s determined to die at his desk.”

He definitely wasn’t supposed to be saying that.

“You’d get the position then, wouldn’t you?” Tomik said with a wryness that, like anything else, Ral found heartwarming.

“I think he’d come back even more sufferable and sure of himself than he is now. In fact I’m positive. I’ve seen his notes.”

Tomik laughed. Eyes closed and nose scrunched and head tilted back in the full, unrestrained expression of mirth. Ral was very glad his drink wasn’t in his hand. He may have broken the glass.

“Mine have been talking about their deaths as long as I can remember like dying is some kind of ultimate promotion. I’m sure they would make no short work of haunting me if I were to have pursued any other career path.” 

“What do you want to do?” Ral asked, half ready to tell this brilliant, beautiful man that he should fuck law school and do whatever his heart desired.

Tomik paused. Flicked his eyes down and back up and then over the length of the spiraling green lines of Ral’s tattoo, on display with his arm slung across the bar as he faced Tomik.

Definitely not HALF hard anymore.

Tomik smiled up at him. “My hotel isn’t far and I have a lovely bottle of cabernet that I’ve been looking for a reason to enjoy.”

Ral Zarek blinked, heart leaping up through his chest and layers of viscera and connective tissue to lodge fully in his throat. His tongue didn’t want to seem to work. To be completely correct, his tongue would very much like to work in several capacities that had nothing to do with anything so plain as human speech.

He raised his drink and finished what was left of it. It was his third. And because he hated himself and he was one of the dumbest men that he’d ever had the dis-fucking-pleasure to meet he swept his eyes from Tomik to the man’s very full, maybe untouched, drink still on the bar top. Lime and all.

He set his empty glass down and reached for Tomik’s cocktail.

“Do you… want to finish this?” Ral asked.

Tomik didn’t laugh this time but his mouth curled into a smile that was entirely different than any of the ones that he’d ever worn yet. He put his smooth, soft hand over Ral’s on the bartop before he could reach the full glass.

“Ral. I hate gin.”

\---

It was indeed a short walk to the, very, nice hotel as Tomik had promised. Very nice. Ral had the presence of mind to wonder just how loaded Tomik’s parents were if they were putting their son up in a place like this while he toured a potential law school. The concierge nodded to Tomik as they entered, Tomik’s hand around Ral’s tattooed wrist leading him gently as though he had to be lead at all. The shorter man raised his other hand, one finger to his lips in a ‘shhh’ gesture. 

The concierge nodded demurely. “Of course sir.”

Ral had enough attention and time to wonder why a student would ever be a ‘sir’ before Tomik pulled him into the elevator. Once the doors closed, Ral was half expecting this strange man who’d been full of surprises so far, to push him against the wall here and now. His dick was very much hoping he did.

Tomik stood still by his side and did nothing of the sort. He did slide his hand down into Ral’s properly and gave it a squeeze. He shook his head silently and glanced pointedly upward, waiting for Ral’s eyes to follow his. 

Camera.

Ral looked down at Tomik, once again perplexed, amazed and painfully fucking hard.

It was once they got into the hotel room that Tomik pushed him against the door and soon as its closed, hooked three fingers of one hand into the half-open button-up Ral was wearing to pull him down for a kiss. Tomik kissed like he spoke, slow and measured and purposeful and absolutely, infuriatingly hot.

Ral had no issue with being pushed against a door and pulled down for a searing connection of lips and tongues, but when Ral canted his hips forward for some kind of friction and Tomik purposely rounded his body out of satisfactory reach, Ral remembered that he was probably stronger than Tomik and certainly had better leverage. His hands took hold of Tomik’s hips and rolled the smaller man back against the door and pinned him, and ground down against him, with his.

Tomik was just as hard as he was and when Ral could finally feel the outline of the other man’s cock against his through denim and Tomik’s expensive fucking whatever-fabric, Tomik’s voice caught suddenly on an audible gasp.

It was physically painful, but Ral stopped and pulled his body away from Tomik, who’s eyes had closed. God damnit his eyelashes were long. 

“You alright?” Ral asked.

Tomik’s eyes opened and for the first time that night the smaller man seemed confused. Then he smiled in an odd way, that was like a gradual trickle of emotion over him pooling on his face.

“No.” He stated, but the smiled didn’t leave. “I didn’t tell you you could stop. I’ll need you to do that again, and several other things tonight before I will be alright.”

The smile did not bloom up on Ral Zarek's face. It flashed like electricity across his mouth until Tomik tried to kiss it away.

\---

Ral’s alarm went off at 6:30 and he groaned, throwing his arm out in search of his wretched phone and finding a very warm chest instead. Very tempting. Altogether too tempting. He swore and wiped his hand across his face, trying to smooth his hair (which was surely a riot of horrible bed head) while simultaneously tracking down the offensive device. He stumbled out of the bed half wrapped in one of the sheets. Two steps later he nearly crushed his phone under his foot, thank god for the polymer sciences branch. He tried to lift his foot without doing any actual damage, or stepping on it again, and instead caught his foot in the sheet and tumbled wholesale onto the ground. Even over his phone alarm he could hear the rip of the sheet.

Fuck.

Ral at least managed to turn off the damn alarm. 

He sat up to see Tomik upright in the bed and watching him with a look that, he could somehow tell with certainty, plainly said “I would be laughing so hard right now if I had any less composure.”

“I’m sorry-” Ral started.

“Its fine. Hotel.” Tomik reminded. 

“No - I mean, I have to go. Fuck. I’m probably already late.” He’d managed to stand and was going about the always dignified task of finding his clothing that they’d practically torn off and flung around in the general haste to get to the bed.

He dressed quickly out of necessity, his clothing was… mostly not wrinkled. Hopefully. He bent down to grab his phone, wallet and keys and the half-empty pack of cigarettes. Once the immediate task was done and he’d straightened up and stopped moving frantically for more than a few seconds he suddenly found himself at a loss.

“I… uh…”

Tomik stood slowly, much more gracefully and without ruining another sheet, and beckoned him closer with curled finger. 

Ral met him back at the side of the bed without a word. Tomik had grabbed something from the bedside table but Ral quickly couldn’t be bothered to wonder what it was when the shorter man pulled him down for a kiss. He broke the kiss with a laugh when Tomik slipped a hand into his jeans pocket and gave his ass a squeeze.

“Get going. Go be responsible.”

The laughter stopped at the implication. Ral trailed off into a “Right then… Well. See you?”

Tomik smiled. “Probably.”

His heart sank. Died maybe. Finally shriveled and gave up the ghost.

Ral Zarek: Mensa member, begrudging protege of the top chemical and electrical engineer in perhaps the world, with PhDs in triplicate and possibly more published works and patents than any man his age in his field. Genius. Took more than half of the walk back home and two cigarettes to realize that Tomik had slipped a business card into his pocket.

He suddenly felt very much alive.

\---

Ral made it into the conference room, long-legged gait not quite slowing soon enough to hide the fact that he’d obviously been running to make it. Maree looked over at him with a raised eyebrow and a very critical look.

Either his hair was horrible or his clothes were more wrinkled than he thought.

He turned around to close the door and her eyes widened and then her face set into a full scowl. She obviously saw something she didn’t like. Maybe both then?

He swallowed the lump in his throat and whatever was left of his pride and moved to sit behind her like a good Professor ought to. He settled himself in what he hoped looked like a professional pose and finally dared to look up at the grant panel.

Tomik smiled broadly and wiggled his fingers in a wave.

\---

Maree did not get her grant. Ral did not maintain anything like professional composure. In fact, he was quite sure as he sat through the rest of the presentations of his students that Tomik was enjoying the way he was squirming.

It was a very long few hours before the first break.

Tomik caught Ral’s eyes and darted them left towards the door. Then Tomik excused himself, stood and exited with complete composure.

Ral managed not to trip over the chair he was sitting in.

He exited after the other panel members had filed out in order. Ral was barely out the door when Tomik grabbed him by the wrist and yanked him down a side hallway.

For a brief, wonderful moment Ral thought he was about to get pushed up against another wall and methodically taken apart under Tomik’s hands and mouth, once again. Tomik looked up at him with arms politely by his sides a look on his face that said he clearly knew what Ral had been expecting and there was no way that it was happening.

_You idiot_ might have also been in there. 

“Did you really think that I was a student?”

Ral had the good sense to at least blush at the implication. “Maybe? For a while? I mean, technically I thought you were a grad student but -”

“You didn’t read the business card.” Tomik stated, not asked.

Once again, the good sense to look appropriately ashamed. “Not… Entirely? I read your name and then actually skipped for a while because I assumed that meant you wanted to see me again.”

“Has anyone told you before that you’re very stupid for a very smart person.”

“One of the most common things said about me, actually.” This time Ral Zarek just smiled.

Tomik smiled too. “Did you check your other pocket?”

“My other…” Ral Zarek reached into the opposite pocket where he’d stuffed his phone, only to realize a good six inches of torn white fabric was hanging out of it, half wrapped around the offending phone.

Tomik’s eyes darted from side to side, in a more furtive motion that Ral had yet to see him make. Then he stepped closer and wrapped a hand around the base of Ral’s neck to angle his head down for a kiss.

“Maybe I should… return this? To the hotel?” Ral held the stip of cloth out to Tomik in his hand.

Tomik raised an eyebrow.

“At least let me pay for the sheet so the hotel doesn’t charge your room extra.” Ral asked.

Tomik scoffed and closed both his hands around Ral’s, trapping the shredded ribbon in his fist.

“Ral. I own the hotel. You can owe me.”


End file.
